By | 1 November 2016

A kind of lust forces us back
:the sky, the city, all a misunderstanding. See how pale it is
a different place each time, familiar yes but rearranged
as fear.
The ride under our bodies kicks along. You are
no longer: disfigured in all the figuring and transfiguring.
Mile upon mile of the wrong beer,
the wrong wine. It is all so heady!

The handsome young arrive
to rescue us and spruik God and the value of Business School.

Is it any wonder our filtering organs choose this moment
to opt out with painkillers and ice-packs.
Face and eyes drift into bottles, arrange themselves on a shelf
to observe this latest attempt to represent the dark-star
of Empire in texta pen.

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